The Good Guy
by T. Fowler
Summary: Scott and Logan find some solace in each other after Jean's death. Slash.
1. Chapter 1

Sometimes, the nightmares weren't worth it. Weren't worth the slow and incremental trek to remembering who he was and where he'd come from. Who he had been before he'd volunteered to be cut open and have metal welded to his bones--if Stryker had been telling the truth, that is. If Logan had actually volunteered, signed his name on the line, and jumped into the tank with both feet, eyes open. If someone hadn't been holding the pen for him or, worse, there had been no pen, just Stryker in front of some sort of committee saying that yes, Logan had graciously volunteered to this, while all along, Logan had been unconscious in the underground laboratory.

To be perfectly honestly, even if he had willingly volunteered to become a human lab rat, Logan doubted he'd had all the information. Which was why he had to know who he'd had been. What sort of man he had been before ... before the half coherent dreams of officers sipping champagne and drilling into him, cutting along the neatly drawn lines on his skin. Before he'd awaken and killed, running naked through the lab with blood running from his hands, down his arms. Covering him.

He wanted to know. Was driven to know. But on nights like this, when he couldn't sleep because of the nightmares flashing through his mind, Logan seriously questioned the necessity of finding out who he was. He'd thought the nightmares were bad before going to Alkali Lake; now, they were downright terrifying.

Sleeplessness was familiar. An old friend that had kept Logan company on many nights during the past fifteen years. Now, though, it was different. He used to be alone. When he woke, there was no one else to bother him. Now, Logan stepped out of his room, and there were people. Kids who couldn't sleep and kids who didn't sleep and kids who were asleep but still made noise.

And a kid who sobbed silently in his room, his eyes screwed tightly because if he opened them, he could blow the whole roof off and kill them all.

Logan sighed and rubbed his eyes. Thinking about Summers was not what he needed to be doing right now. He had his own grief to deal with. He'd loved her too.

Okay, maybe not loved. Not like the kid had. Summers loved her in a deep, committed, forever way that Logan had only begun to think about when he'd come back. Forever had never meant much to Logan, but then, no one had ever made his heart skip like Jean had.

Well. Maybe not no one. But he'd never felt the way he had in recent months before he'd come in contact with the X-Men crew. He'd been alone, and content to stay alone.

Now, suddenly, he had roots. A place to go to when things outside got rough. People who cared about him, even depended on him. He was stuck, bound to the crew by a common gift, a common thread, and now, a common grief.

Christ, he needed a beer.

He left his room and walked through the quiet halls. It was never quiet here, and that bothered him. No one who was as young as the children behind these doors should have memories that made them sleep so fitfully.

Even though he knew very well there was no beer in the refrigerator, Logan headed down to the kitchen anyway. Maybe there was something to eat before he headed out to town to get something. After all, he wasn't babysitting tonight. In fact, he doubted they'd ever leave him alone with the kids again, even if it hadn't been his fault.

As per his luck, the kitchen was occupied. It was who was occupying it that surprised him.

"Summers?" Logan said in surprise.

The kid looked up, head lolling back a little too far, as if it were too heavy for him. "L'gan. Wanna drink?" He held up the bottle of whiskey he was drinking.

Frowning, he crossed the room and took the bottle. "Do you really think this is the place? I thought this was a school." He took a swallow directly from the bottle.

"Don' care. Don' fucking care." He took the bottle back and took a swig. "Couldn't stay in my room. It still smells like her." Summers sniffed and swiped sloppily at his nose. "God, I miss her." Then he lifted the bottle to his lips and drank, throat working as he swallowed.

"I do too," Logan said after a moment, voice quiet.

Summers snorted and put the bottle down. "I'm glad that you miss my girlfriend," he slurred sarcastically. "It makes me feel sooo good." He rose slightly from his stool, swaying dangerously such a way that made every muscle in Logan's legs tense, ready to spring and catch him should he fall.

The kid managed to stay upright, though. He pulled a small, black box from his pocket and set it on the table.

"Oh, shit." Logan looked from the box to Summers. "What ..."

"She didn't know." He laughed slightly. "Do you know how hard it is keeping something like this from a telepath?" He continued laughing until he sounded like he was sobbing.

"Scott," Logan started, unsure of what to say.

"Open it."

It was demand, not a request, and, to his surprise, Logan found himself obeying. He moved so he was leaning on the counter and picked up the box.

The ring was beautiful. Thin, gold band, three medium sized diamonds surrounded by clusters of rubies. Jean would have loved it; Logan could practically see it on her finger. It wasn't ostentatious or showy. Neither Jean or Scott were the flashy type. Their love had been deep and mutual, and the ring reflected that. Quiet, refined, and oh so beautiful.

"How is it?" Scott asked, a trifle wistfully.

Logan cleared his throat and shrugged. "It's all right."

"Beautiful?"

"Yes."

Scott nodded, his chin trembling. "I have problem with depth on some things. I basically know the shape, and how it's designed, but not completely. Can't really see it." He was silent a moment. "She liked rubies. Ironically. Always told me that they were the most beautiful jewel. I had to find the right sales girl to help me. The first few places I went ... they kept bringing out these awful, gaudy things, saying that it's what they would have wanted. Only diamonds, I think. I can't tell them apart, they all look red to me." He sniffed and took a swig of whiskey. "Finally, I found this girl. Quiet, shy. Reserved. Brand new, and brand new in love with someone. I asked her ... told her about Jean. Told her about the rubies. And she started pulling out things and then suddenly she gasped and told me to wait. Ran into the back, and when she came out, she had that. Said it was her favourite, except she'd rather it with amethysts. Said they were rubies. I brought Storm with me the second time. To make sure. She told me they were rubies and it was beautiful. She cried."

He closed the box, unable to look at the ring anymore. Even though Jean had never touched it, never even seen it, her presence around it was so tangible, it hurt to breathe. And if it hurt him, it had to be ten times worse for the kid.

"I'm sure," Logan started after a moment, feeling incredibly stupid, "I'm sure Jean knew. In her heart. That you ... Fuck it." He snatched the bottle from Scott and drank deeply.

The laughter started again, only this time, it didn't sound anything like laughter. Scott was crying again. Hard. "She knew. She had to have known. That's why she left the plane. That's why ..."

Ah, fuck. That's not what he'd meant. "Scott," he tried. "No. I mean, Jean knew how much you loved her, and ..."

"You don't know anything!" Summers practically screamed, shooting up from his chair. "She did know how much I loved her, and that's what killed her. She couldn't live with me. She ... You said she made a choice. Her choice wasn't me, Logan. The choice was never between me and you. It was a choice between the shackles I bound her with and freedom."

Logan frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Summers shook his head, sobbing freely now. "I tried to love her like I should. For five years I loved her more than any living being on earth. Loved her more than life. More than anything. And then, one day, I didn't. Not the same, and she knew. I tried to hide it from her, but she … I couldn't." Slowly, as if the life was going out of him, Summers sank to the floor, face hid behind his hands. "I came here young. And I didn't know. And then you came, and suddenly everything was different. I was different. I tried to ignore it and love Jean like I should, but I couldn't. Not the same. And she found out. I …"

His head whirled slightly as what the kid was saying became clear. "Scott … what?"

"Didn't even realize what I wanted," he was saying. "I didn't know. It was new. Unfamiliar. I'd never wanted a man. And you … liked her, and I thought I was jealous. Then the dreams started."

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, God damn fuck! Not here, not now, and Logan did not ever need to hear this. To know this.

There were footsteps in the hall. Logan tensed and turned, moving into a protective stance in front of Summers.

The footsteps hesitated a moment. Straining his ears, Logan tried to get a sense of who was out there. He sniffed.

Marie. He could smell her perfume. She wasn't the worst person to find them, but Logan didn't want anyone to see Summers in this state.

He turned quickly and picked the kid up.

"Wha …"

"Shut up, kid," Logan growled. He left the kitchen, Summers slung over his shoulder.

The mansion was like a maze, five ways to get everywhere in the building. The kid wasn't exactly heavy, but by the time Logan made it up to the correct floor, he was tired of the burden. He set Summers down.

"Why? Why did you do that?" Summers asked, swaying on his feet.

"Do you really want your students seeing you like this? You're their fearless leader, after all; it's not considered good form."

"Fuck good form. Fuck … everything." He looked around him, frowning. "Where's my whiskey?"

Oops. "Still in the kitchen. But you've had enough for one night. Go to bed. Sleep it off."

His face crumpled. "I can't. I can't go back in there. She's too … everything there reminds me of her, and it all reminds me of how I failed her."

Logan could hear people stirring behind the closed doors. Sighing in defeat, he grabbed Summers by the arm and dragged him down the hall to Logan's own room. He kicked open the door and practically threw the kid in.

Still unsteady on his feet, Summers stumbled and weaved. He managed to make it to the bed before he collapsed, hiding his face in the covers.

"Jesus Christ," Logan said. He rubbed his face with both hands, wishing there was something to fight or claw or grab right now. Something he could do. There was nothing he could do for Summers right now. Nothing.

But, he had to try. For Jean's sake. Because despite what he'd put together from Scott's confessions, he didn't think Jean had done anything but chosen to save them. To sacrifice herself for her love and her team.

"Look," he said hesitantly. "You need to pull yourself together, kid. What happened … it wasn't because of you. She chose …"

"She chose to die!" Summers shouted, rising to his knees.

"No! She chose to save us. To save you, Scott. You've spent your life sacrificing for her, and now she decided to do the same."

He shook his head. "No. Don't you get it? Don't you see …"

"You had a crush on me, I get it," Logan interrupted. "You met me and realized that you were attracted to me. Big fucking deal."

"I should have …"

"What? Dumped her because you had a feelings for another person? Okay, maybe. If they were strong enough that you thought you might be gay, maybe. But maybe not. Maybe it was just a crush. You don't ruin a five year relationship because of a crush. Jean knew that. She told me that she wouldn't choose me because she wanted to marry the good guy. You."

Summers shook his head, tears leaking from under his glasses and down his face. "I never told her how I felt. I just … when I realized what I was feeling, I was so angry. And I tried to hide it, but she knew." He shook his head, chin trembling harder. "Do you have any idea how that made her feel? The look on her face when she woke me from a dream about you? It was like she didn't know me. Worse, she looked like she failed me. And I begged her not to leave me. Told her … I loved her and couldn't live without her. So she stayed." His voice cracked and he started crying harder. "She stayed in a relationship where she didn't feel like she was loved. And I did love her. But I didn't love her enough. I didn't love her well. So she left me." Shaking hard, Summers doubled over.

Logan closed his eyes. He couldn't do this. You could never reason with madmen or drunks. And Scott Summers was definitely one of those.

So, instead of answering, Logan stalked to the bed and pulled the covers down. "Sleep," he said roughly, pushing Summers.

He rolled onto his back, frowning. "Wha?"

"I said sleep. Stop crying, stop thinking. Stop talking. Sleep. I don't want to hear another word." He yanked the covers up to the kid's chin and crossed his arms over his face, glaring down menacingly.

"But …"

Logan bent over, brining his face mere inches from Summer's. "Shut. The fuck. Up."

Summers swallowed hard and fell silent. Logan couldn't tell if his eyes were closed, but, after a few minutes, the kid's breathing grew regular and easy.

Once it was clear Summers was asleep, Logan pulled away and walked across the room. He didn't know if he wanted to laugh or beat the crap out of someone.

Scott Summers was attracted to him. Okay, he hadn't seen that one coming. And he didn't know what to do with the information. It wasn't that he was disgusted or anything, far from it. But there were complications. Logan didn't fuck nice men. Good guys. Which, considering his conversation with Jean, was pretty funny. She rejected him because he was dangerous and exciting, and Logan had dismissed Summers out of hand because he was just the opposite. The attraction was there, and the image of Summers and his mouth had kept Logan company many nights during his long trek through Canada. But thought of acting on those fantasies never crossed his mind, for many reasons.

A. Scott Summers was straight. B. He was practically a fucking Boy Scout. C. The smell of his sweat made Logan think of thoughts he'd never associated with men before, and they didn't have anything to do with sex. And most of all, D. He called himself Cyclops, for Christ's sake.

There were so many reasons not to get involved with the leader of the X-Men, including that he was the leader of a group called the X-Men. Logan had enough to worry about in his life; he didn't need a kid like Summers. So he'd chosen to flirt with the one he thought he could get into his bed. And maybe more, because, in the end, his intentions to Jean hadn't been entirely dishonourable. He'd been genuinely attracted to her, and wanted to do right.

And Summers … A passing interest. That was all. Logan preferred his men strong and faceless. Men were for blow jobs in the dimness of run-down bars, or the occasional fuck in seedy motels. They weren't…

They weren't Scott Summers. Towards whom Logan's feelings weren't entirely dishonourable. Especially not since Jean died and Scott had fallen, broken, into his arms. And Logan had realized … and had made a silent promise to Jean to take care of him.

Which was the biggest reason he was still here. Yes, he was pretty much committed to the X-men now, with the oncoming war and everything. There probably were no answers left about his past, but there were plenty of problems coming up in the future. And he was a mutant; their problems were his problems. He couldn't leave.

But that wasn't why he stayed. Not really. He stayed because Jean was gone, and he was surrounded by memories of her. And he stayed because he couldn't let Scott become just a memory too.

He'd been keeping an eye on Summers while he dealt with his own grief. And Summers had seemed ... okay. Not great. Not happy. Very depressed. But functional.

And then this. This rush of guilt and longing and ... and whatever it was. Logan hadn't been expecting it, not like this. Guilt over leaving Jean, or of not doing enough, yes. Thinking that he was somehow responsible for her choice? Never.

Logan rubbed his eyes viciously, trying to think. What the hell was he supposed to do. Truthfully, he wasn't all that surprised by the admission. A part of him had known, probably the part that couldn't let him ignore his own attraction. He was fine with it. And he suspected that Jean had been at the very least understanding. Scott was, for all intents and purposes, young, and he seemed inexperienced. His life was the school and the X-Men, and Logan didn't get the sense he'd been in a lot of relationships or had a chance to explore his sexuality. Logan's appearance in his life had probably upset the balance of his perfectly ordered world.

Jean wasn't a weak woman. Maybe she wasn't the most confident about her powers, but Logan refused to believe she would allow herself to be trapped in a relationship where she didn't feel like she was loved. Not with Logan offering her everything he had. If anything, Jean was guilty of complacency. Of not saying anything to Summers either to encourage him to find out what the feelings meant or to get over them.

Unless she couldn't handle them herself. Summers certainly didn't seem to be able to. Made Logan wonder how the kid felt about homosexuality to begin with. To Logan, it wasn't exactly a way of life, but it wasn't unfamiliar to him. Sometimes, men were all he had. He kept them at a distance and didn't get as involved with them as women, but it wasn't a big deal.

He didn't know what to do. Thinking things through wasn't one of his strong points. He'd rather be acting, doing something.

Unfortunately, he could only see three options: leave, fuck the kid, or talk to him. As attractive as the first two were, he didn't think they'd help the situation.

Which left talking …

Unless he just fucked Summers, and then left.

Logan was beginning to get a headache.

Okay. That was enough thinking. He hesitated only a moment before climbing into the bed. It was his bed, after all. He wasn't going to be kicked out just because some drunk kid couldn't get to sleep in his own room.

So, he lay on his back, hands interlaced behind his head, gazing at the ceiling. He didn't think he'd be getting too much sleep tonight. He was too aware of the man snoring softly next to him. Of his scent, his skin, his warmth … of everything.

So focused on Scott, Logan didn't notice the shadows creep around him as he slipped off into sleep.

* * *

A loud groan startled Logan out of sleep. He tensed, hands clenching slowly in preparation of unleashing his claws as he listened to the sounds around him. 

The bed shifted, and he heard someone whimpering.

Summers.

Logan relaxed. This was one of the reasons he didn't let people sleep in his bed. He was more of a "kill first, ask questions later," guy; hence the whole skewering of Marie. Plus, when he wasn't attacking every noise that woke him, he was having nightmares that made him dangerous to anyone and anything around him.

But then, he hadn't had any nightmares after he'd gotten the kid back to his room. In fact, Logan's sleep had been blissfully dreamless, something that hadn't happened for a long time. Interesting.

"Ah, man," Summers whispered. He coughed weakly.

"If you throw up in my bed, I'll remove your stomach and make sure it never happens again," Logan said without opening his eyes.

The only response was a groan. The mattress dipped and then shifted as Summers got out of bed. Logan could hear him walking across the room. A moment later, there was the sound of retching and coughing from the bathroom.

He opened his eyes and looked in the direction of the bathroom, but the door was almost closed.

The retching stopped and toilet flushed. Summers groaned again, then the water turned on. It ran a few minutes before shutting off and Summers emerged from the bathroom, holding his temples and looking miserable.

"Why did you let me do that?" he asked, holding his head as he leaned against the threshold.

Logan sat up and raised an eyebrow. "I don't recall you asking my permission, bub. Besides, you were already halfway into the bottle when I came down. I just helped you crawl the rest of the way in."

"And for that, I truly thank you." He pressed both hands into his temples. "Oh, God, why did I do that?"

"You tell me."

Summers shook his head. "You know, I don't even remember buying the bottle, it's so old. I hid it when I was a teenager, and then never got around to drinking it. But last night ... I just needed it." He sighed. "Just needed to forget."

"Well, the next time you just need to forget, go somewhere else. This is a school."

"You're telling me?" he asked wryly.

Logan smiled slightly. "Yeah, well. I don't care. In fact, I wouldn't care if you'd gotten drunk and ran naked through the halls, but I figured you might not like it."

Summers nodded. "You're right," he said. Then, in a soft voice, "Look, uh, about last night. Thanks."

"Of course."

"And I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be."

Summers frowned. "Come on. I was a mess, and you're the last person who wanted to deal with that."

"Says who?"

"I would think it's obvious. You're … you're not the type."

Logan thought about it a moment and then shrugged. "If not me, then who?"

With a sigh, Summers turned his head so it was pressed into the wall. "No one. That's the point. That's what being a leader is about. Not … not falling apart like that. And not burdening your team members with your weaknesses."

Too many places to begin and before Logan could even said anything, he had to fight back the urge to grab Summers and shake him hard.

"First of all," he said when he could do it without growling too much, "I'm not a member of your team. Second, you are so full of self-indulgent bullshit."

Scott's head snapped up. "What?"

Loan leaned forward. "You're full of shit. Your team members already know you're a wreck. Hiding in your room to cry isn't fooling any of them. And look where your strategy got you, anyway. You let it build up until you lost it completely. Some leader," he snorted.

"It's not like that! I was doing fine coping with losing Jean. Yes, I miss her, and it feels like my soul's been ripped in two, but I was dealing with it."

"That's what you call last night? Dealing with it?"

"No!" Summers' voice was rising dangerously in pitch, and Logan could almost smell the hysteria. "No, last night was something else. Last night was … I'd never put it together. Never got that my fucking feelings that came out of nowhere had to have been why she … why she thought … why she did …"

"Wanna finish the sentence sometime soon, Cyke?"

He deflated, sagging against the wall. "Never mind. You wouldn't understand."

Logan climbed out of bed and walked slowly to Summers. "Let's see how much I do understand. You are a straight man with a girlfriend who suddenly found out you are attracted to a man. Me. Jean found out, but didn't do or say anything about it. You, not being able to deal with feelings for me, decided that Jean couldn't either, but stayed out of twisted loyalty. And then, when the opportunity came to leave the relationship to be with me, not only did she not take it, but decided that allowing herself to be killed would better." Logan stopped about an inch away from Summers and leaned in. "What part don't I understand?"

Summers swallowed hard. He was breathing fast and pressing against the wall, as if trying to put more space between the two of them.

Logan wasn't having it. He kept his distance, breathing in Summers, his legs brushing against Summers' thighs.

"Well?"

"I don't know," Summers finally answered, voice hoarse. "You seem to have all the facts."

"But they don't make sense."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand." Then he swallowed again. "You going to hit me?"

"Why?"

"For … for, you know."

"No, I don't. Explain it for me."

Scott took a deep breath. "For being attracted to you. For wanting you."

Slowly, still leaning into him, Logan forced Scott's legs apart and slid his between them so his thigh was pressed against Scott's crotch. "I'm not the one who has a problem with it, bub."

It took a moment, but Scott's face went as scarlet as his the ruby quartz in his glasses. He opened and closed his mouth several time, saying nothing.

Just to see what would happen--and because he was beginning to get a little turned on being this close to an object of his desire--Logan gently thrust into Scott.

"Oh, God," Scott groaned, head knocking against the wall with a loud thump.

Logan could feel him hardening and smiled. He did it again.

Scott's hand's clamped on his shoulders and, ineffectually, he pushed. "Please, stop," he gasped, moving his hips ever so slightly into Logan's.

"Give me a good reason."

"It's wrong."

He shook his head. "Not good enough." Leaning forward, he sucked on Summers' neck until there was a bright pink mark on it. "In fact, that's probably the worst reason there is."

Summers' shook his head. "No, I mean … Not me. Not for me, this isn't right. I'm … I'm a mutant, and …"

"And I'm not?"

"God dammit, Logan. This is not who I am. Stop it."

He did, pulling his head away from the delicious skin on Summers' neck and relieving the pressure on his cock. Summers had that tone in his voice that you just didn't fuck with because, if you did, that line was crossed. And Logan wouldn't cross that line, ever.

But he didn't leave the kid's personal space, instead staying close enough he could see his distorted image on Summers' glasses.

Scott took a deep breath and exhales slowly. "Look, it's … Do you really like men?"

Huh. Interesting phrase of question. He'd never thought much about how he felt towards men; he just enjoyed the sex. "I like fucking 'em, yeah. On occasion. Don't make a habit out of it, though, but I never turn an offer down."

"Then what about Jean? I thought you wanted her."

"I did. That didn't stop me from wanting you."

"So you're bi?"

"Don't much rely on labels. Got enough on my plate with 'mutant.' But, basically, I've learned never to turn down food, shelter, or sex, no matter who's offering." He made a face. "Within reason."

"And you want me."

He nodded.

Summers' frown deepened. "Then why didn't you … ever do anything?"

Logan shrugged. "I had my reasons."

"Which were?"

He suppressed the 'slam Scott against the wall in sheer frustration' impulse and instead answered, " I think you're an uptight dickwad with a superiority complex. I think you're too impressed by your powers and too hyped up on your own propaganda on about the X-Men. I think you're an ass. I think you're annoying. And most of all you are, as Jean herself said, a 'good guy.' And I don't fuck good guys."

"Why not?" He seemed genuinely intrigued.

"Too complicated," Logan replied. He pulled away from Summers and went into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

He went straight for the sink and turned the water on. As he bent over to wash his face, he heard Summers' tentative footsteps enter the room.

"What?" he asked, washing the remnants of sleep from his eyes.

"Why is it too complicated?"

"Good guys have too many hang-ups. And you have a ton. I don't need to get involved with a self-loathing, uptight, hero-type." He rinsed out his mouth and then grabbed his toothbrush.

"I'm not self-loathing."

Logan spit and looked at Scott in the mirror. "Then what was last night about?"

His cheeks colored. "It was ... a way to ... to deal with what was going on."

"You call that dealing?"

"No," he admitted softly. "I don't." Summers bit his lower lip, worrying it between his teeth. "Do you ... really think I've got it all wrong?"

"Yes. Not only is your theory stupid, it makes Jean's sacrifice less noble. And I'd think you of all people would want it to stay noble."

Scott rubbed his forehead. "I'm just … the professor's right. About Jean and her powers. I knew her for so long, and she'd always been unsure. She was almost ... frightened of her abilities, torn between wanting to become more powerful, and scared of what she might become." He frowned, "She'd been having dreams ever since Liberty Island. Nightmares. And I could see how much her powers had grown."

Logan nodded and turned so he was leaning against the sink. "I noticed that too. She was … strong."

"But scared," he said, nodding. "I guess I thought … I thought that if she was so unsure about her powers, she might be unsure about herself in general. And us. She didn't want to hurt me, and I felt so guilty about wanting you."

"But death isn't a convenient way out. I would have been." Logan shook his head. "If she'd really wanted out of your relationship, she would have used me. Maybe not intentionally, but she would have."

"Even if it killed me?"

He raised an eyebrow. "I think you give yourself far less credit than she and I do. You would have been fine. Eventually."

He sighed. "I guess."

"How did she find out? About the way you felt?"

The roses were back in full force on his cheeks, and Scott's eyes were firmly fastened on the floor. "Uh … dream. Pretty much the same way I figured it out. I was having a dream and, uh, she thought it was a nightmare. So she touched me and …" He looked up, a self-deprecating smile on his face as he shrugged. "She looked surprised and … well, I thought it was disgusted, but I really can't see Jean being like that. Just surprised."

"Did she say anything?"

"Just blushed and said she was sorry. Asked if I wanted to talk. I said no. We left it at that."

"It's been my experience that if someone is really disgusted by the idea their boyfriend is wanting about other guys, the last place they want to be is in bed with them. Unless they think they can reform them, in which case, they want to talk. A lot." He shrugged. "Ever think that she didn't mind? Or that she was waiting for you to make a decision about your sexuality and your part in your relationship? And when you didn't, she figured that it was just a crush and not important in the grand scheme of things?"

"I didn't really want to think about. I wanted to forget about it. But I couldn't. I got guiltier and more ... upset, until finally she brought it up."

"And that's when you begged her to stay with you."

Summers nodded. "I loved her so much, I couldn't lose her over some dreams. But, at the same time, I hated myself for betraying her."

"You didn't. They were dreams, and she knew that. Feelings you were unfamiliar with, and she knew that too."

He rubbed his temples. "I felt like by wanting you, it made my feelings for her less."

"It didn't." He started walking towards Scott slowly. "What bothers you more: that I'm a man, or that I'm me?"

Summers looked up, flinching ever so slightly when he saw Logan moving in on him, but he held his ground. His chin set itself determinedly and said, "Well. You'd think I'd have better taste."

It was the best invitation he was going to get, even though he hadn't been consciously looking for one.

Logan reached out and grabbed Scott, pulling him roughly to him.

A small sound escaped Scott as their bodies connected, but Logan swallowed it as he captured the half-open mouth with his.

Logan plundered Scott's mouth, taking advantage of the already parted lips to slide his tongue in over teeth and gums, stroking against Scott's forcefully. He tasted sweet and strong and dizzying all at once as his hands curved around Logan's neck and held on tightly. Summers kissed Logan almost desperately, whimpering in his throat as he practically tried to crawl inside, tongues dueling and dancing, neither fighting for dominance, but neither willing to be submissive, either.

"Don't know," he whispered, rubbing his thumb over Scott's cheek. "You taste pretty good to me."

Scott groaned. "You didn't just say that."

He grinned and started walking them backwards into the bedroom. "Couldn't resist." He took Scott's mouth again, kissing him deeply.

He moaned and kissed Logan back, allowing himself to be walked backwards to the bed. Their kisses became less intent on the mouth as Logan moved his way down the side of Scott's neck, licking and sucking on his neck, making Scott's fingers tighten in his hair. Scott was trying to score him with his teeth, biting along Logan's jaw line before going back to his lips. They were both breathing heavily, clinging onto each other as the back of Scott's knees hit the bed and he tumbled back.

Logan bent over Scott, not willing to let him get to far away.

Then, suddenly, Scott pulled his mouth away and wrapped his arms tightly around Logan's neck. He tugged Logan down on top of him and buried his face in the crook of Logan's neck. His body began shaking slightly, quiet sobs muffled by Logan's skin.

He sighed and shifted so he could put his arms around Scott. He hadn't meant for anything to happen, really; he'd just wanted to kiss Scott. He knew Scott wasn't ready for anything more. He was still grieving, and Logan wasn't really equipped to deal with sorrow. The only comfort he could offer was physical, but that's not what the kid needed. Not in the end. He needed ...

Well. Logan wasn't sure what he needed. He was completely out of his depth. He only knew two things for sure. One, he was the only person who could understand what Scott was going through, because Logan was the only one who'd loved Jean the way he did. And, two, what had started between them wasn't going to go away. Even if Logan ran. Even if he denied it. Scott was beneath his skin and he wasn't going anywhere.

After all, Scott Summers was a good guy, and the problem with guys like him was, once you had one, you didn't want to let him go. Jean had known this, and she'd turned down passion and danger with only a little regret. The choice had never been between Scott and Logan, which was why she'd asked him not to make her do it. Not to turn what they had into something it could never be. Because Jean's struggle wasn't about love and never had been. Her struggle had been internal, between who she was and who she could be. And her choice had been to embrace who she could be, leaving Scott behind.

And now Logan had a choice. Before, he'd left Jean to find out who he had been. If he left Scott, made the same decision, he would find nothing. If he stayed, Logan had a new beginning and another chance.

He sighed. "You're an uptight, arrogant, dickwad," he whispered into Scott's hair.

Scott laughed shakily and clung to him tighter. "And you kissed me why?" He pulled his face from Logan's neck and looked up with him.

"Because," Logan answered after a moment. "Your ass looks good in your uniform." This time, his kiss was almost gentle.

Scott arched against him, tears wetting Logan's skin. "Is that all?" he whispered.

"No." Logan kissed his forehead, and then lips again. "No. I kissed you because ... you're a good guy."

Logan knew what good girls did with a guy like him. It was time to see what a good guy would do.


	2. Chapter 2

"I think I'm hurt."

Scott tensed and froze, the book his was holding halfway in its new home on the bookshelf. He forced himself to take a deep breath and finish putting the book up. Then he turned. "Oh?" he said, voice steady.

Logan was leaning against the threshold of the door, looking at him through heavy-lidded eyes. "Yeah. I'm gone two weeks and you move to a whole different floor. It took me five minutes to find you. If I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to hide."

Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Scott answered, "I thought I'd test your reputed tracking skills. I'd be remiss as a leader if I didn't see what you could do."

"I see." A smile twitched the corners of Logan's mouth. "Have I passed?" He slowly began walking towards Scott, which made him feel as if he were really being hunted.

"I don't know. I don't know how accurate a test this was. Half the students helped me move up. For all I know, they told you, and all that tests is your ability to ask for directions."

"I never ask for directions."

"Why am I not surprised? You really don't seem the type."

Logan was practically onto top of him now. Heart pounding, Scott tried to take a step back, but was stopped by the bookshelf behind him. Trapped, he raised his chin, meeting Logan's eyes.

Logan placed his arms on either side of Scott's head and leaned in. "I would have helped."

"I know. But I had to do it myself. The kids ... the kids just sort of appeared when they saw me lugging the boxes up here. I couldn't say no."

"I could have been there for you."

Scott swallowed. "I didn't think you'd want to."

"It's not ..." Logan frowned and looked away briefly. He dropped his hands and pulled away from Scott, body closing off as if someone had hit the off switch or something. "It's not just physical," he said after a moment.

Relief made Scott's knees weak, but rather than admit it, he said instead, "I didn't think it was." He reached out and touched Logan's arm gently.

Logan turned. "Oh?"

"This was something I had to do. Alone. Which I did. I spent the night by myself packing and separating. Trying to figure out what I wanted to save, and what should go into storage. I just ... Packing was something I needed to do alone. The rest, like I said, just sort of appeared."

"They miss her too," he said, and Scott could hear the, 'I miss her, too' in his statement.

"I know."

Logan pulled away from him and looked around the room. "Not bad. Is it just me, or do all these rooms look the same?"

"It's not just you. But they all feel different."

Logan smirked. "Wouldn't have noticed. Although, now that you mention it, the room I hurt Rogue in does feel different from the room I'm in now. The new one has ... pleasant memories in."

"I'm glad you think so." Scott hesitated, and then said, "So far, this one's blank."

Logan threw him a smile that made his stomach clench. "Good to know." He went over to the bed and sat down.

Unsure of what to do--was it an invitation, or was he just sitting down, and what did Scott want it to be--Scott bent over and picked up another book. "Uh, how did the mission go?"

"Fine. It was pretty routine, according to Storm. We found the kid hiding in a storm drain, and spent some time bailing him out of the trouble he'd gotten himself into. Bobby was a help; he and the new mutant are pretty close in age."

Scott nodded as he continued to shelf books. "I think Bobby is going to be a good addition to the team. And he looks up to you, so I think I'll have you work with him some."

"Excuse me?"

Scott turned. "What?"

"I haven't officially signed on to your team, Cyclops."

"But we need you, Wolverine," Scott replied, stressing his name. "We need someone of your background and abilities to help us."

"But ..."

"Look, where are you going to go? Alkali Lake is gone, and unless you can breathe under water, or are planning to scuba dive, I doubt you'd find anything if you went back. I don't think the computers survived anyway. And, yes, there might be information in other places, but we need you here. The world needs you here."

Logan shook his head. "Do you remember what I said about you have an over inflated sense of self-importance?"

Scott forced himself not to get angry. Anger wasn't going to help here, and he needed Wolverine to understand.

"I don't get you. A month ago you were telling the president that we'd be watching him. Now, you're saying you're not part of the team?"

"I'm saying ... I don't know what I'm saying."

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Look," he said softly. "I want you. The kids look up to you, Storm and I have faith in you. You're strong, you're good in combat. Your only real problem is that you're always running off to do your own thing, but we can work on that. You can work on that. You think fast under pressure, and don't let yourself freeze. We need people like that. And over inflated sense of self-importance or not, I know what my place in this world is. I've sworn my life to help mutants, but not at the expense of human life. There's a war coming, but to be honest, I don't know if it's a war between humans and mutants, us against Magneto, or us against humans while protecting them from Magneto. But whatever the war, we need good soldiers." Scott stepped closer to Logan. "You know the score. You are on the inside track, and you can't just turn your back on all this."

Logan clenched his jaw and looked away. "Come here."

"Excuse me?"

"Come. Here."

Bemused, Scott obeyed. He crossed the room, allowing his arms to fall at his sides. "What?" he asked, stopping in front of Logan.

Logan put his hands on Scott's hips and tugged.

Taken off guard, Scott stumbled forward, allowing Logan to somehow flip him onto his back on the bed. Before Scott could regain his equilibrium, Logan was kissing him with such intensity, his head spun.

"Logan," he managed to say, but Logan's mouth took his again, swallowing his words.

Scott moaned, head falling back. Right away, Logan began kissing down his neck. He sucked hard at a pulse point, causing fire to race through Scott's veins.

This was insane. His body wanted this, and, yes, it was overriding his head, but he had to think. Scott couldn't let this get out of control.

"Logan, stop. Now!" he said sharply, pushing at Logan's shoulders.

With a heavy sigh, Logan pushed himself up. "What?"

"What are you doing?"

Logan quirked an eyebrow. "Do you really need it explained to you?"

Scott sighed. "Yes, Logan, I do." He sat up, pushing Logan off him. "Did you come here to have sex?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

He hesitated. "Did I already use the line about your ass looking good in a uniform?"

"Yes." Annoyed, Scott climbed off the bed and crossed the room to close the door. He was very glad he'd moved to a floor that was sparsely populated. In fact, most of the floor was empty rooms; only Xavier and now Kurt stayed up here. It wasn't that he was ashamed that he and Logan had been making out in full view of anyone who might walk past. It was just ... embarrassing.

Once the door was closed, Scott turned around and faced Logan again, arms tightly crossed around his chest. "What's going on?"

"Nothing."

"Logan ... One minute I'm trying to explain to you why I need you on the team, and the next you have me flat on my back, trying to push me into something I'm not ready to do." Oh. "Oh," he breathed.

A look of annoyance flashed across Logan's face. "Oh, what?"

"You did it on purpose. You're not ready to commit to something bigger than yourself, and because I'm pushing you, you decided to show me what it was like."

"Oh, please! Spare me from the amateur analysis of the leader of the X-Men. Maybe I kissed you because I missed you. I haven't seen you for two weeks."

Scott cocked an eyebrow. "Really?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe. Yes. No. I don't know." He cracked his knuckles, and then his neck. "I'm not good on teams."

"How do you know? You've spent fifteen years alone, and then the two times you joined a team, I'd say you did pretty damn good. Heck, Logan, you speared yourself to save Rogue."

"Right, to save Rogue. Not to because I cared that Magneto was trying to turn everyone into Mutants with that machine-thing."

"You don't know what you would have done."

"Sure I do. I would have left."

"But you didn't, okay? You stuck around, and you stuck around at Alkali Lake, too. You came back for us, to get us out. You choose us, and you can't back out of that now." Forcing himself to uncross his arms again, Scott walked slowly across the room. His heart was pounding, but he had to get Logan to see this. "Look. Maybe it won't work out. Maybe none of this will. But you can't decide beforehand that it won't, just because it's something that you haven't done before. It used to be different. You used to be alone. You're not anymore. And you won't ever be." He stopped in front of Logan, his hands trembling. He clenched them, determined not to let Logan see how nervous he was.

"You're not going to quit, are you?"

Scott swallowed hard. "I'm just asking for a chance."

"Why?"

"Because I have faith in your potential to be a great X-Men, even if you don't." Then he shrugged and quirked an eyebrow. "And, your ass looks really good in a uniform."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You think so?"

"Come on. You gotta know how great you look."

"Yeah, I know." He rose, stepping into Scott's space. Running his knuckles over Scott's cheek, he said, "I really did miss you, you know."

His breath caught in his throat. "Oh?"

"Yeah." Logan bent down and kissed him gently. "Sorry about that. I do know you're not ready."

Scott swallowed and licked his lips. "You know ... you do realize that you're under no obligation to ... I mean, I don't know when ..." He broke off and sighed. "I don't know what I want from you."

"I don't know what I want from you, either." His thumb traced over Scott's lips. "And, if you don't mind, I think I'm going to stick around for awhile."

"You're sure." God, he hated the uncertainty in his voice.

Logan kissed him again. "Yeah. I'm sure."

Relief made Scott dizzy, so he fell into Logan, arms around his waist. "Good. Then you'll try out the team?"

He sighed. "I went on a Goddamn mission for you, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Scott said, smile tugging his lips. "You did."

"Tell me. Do you ever go on these routine pick-ups? I mean, last time, it was Jean and Storm. This time it was me, Storm, and Bobby. When's your turn?"

"I picked you up, didn't I?"

Logan's arms tightened around him. "Yeah. I guess you did. Didn't think it was very routine, though."

Scott shrugged. "Well, no. But I do go on them. I just didn't on this one because, well, the professor and I aren't sure if I was ready."

"Probably a wise decision." He looked up and glanced around the room. "So. This is your room."

"Uh, yeah."

"It's nice." He kissed Scott's forehead and pulled away. "Want me to help you finish moving in?"

Scott smiled, and watched as Logan went to the box of books, pulling one out like he wasn't sure if he should touch them. "Yeah," he said, going over to him. He took the book, checked the author, and put it on the shelf in the right place. "I'd really like that. Thanks."

Logan smiled and kissed the nape of Scott's neck. "No problem, kid."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: The positive response I've gotten so far has inspired me to write more. I am in the middle of four WIPs right now, though, so I can't say how often I'll update._

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"No."

Logan sighed. "This isn't up for discussion."

"No. I'm saying no, Logan." Scott cocked his head and looked Logan over. "I'm serious." He stepped back into his room.

Logan grabbed the door before Scott was able to slam it in his face. "Scott, we're not arguing about this."

"Good." He tried to slam the door again, but Logan stopped it again.

"You promised. Not just me. You promised Rogue, Bobby, Peter, and Jubilee. You swore days ago that you'd take them to the movies. You can't back out now."

Logan watched as the indignant strength left Scott's body. He wilted before Logan's eyes, the blood that had flushed the pretty face draining until Scott was nothing more than a small, pale boy.

He let his hand drop from the door. Stumbled back into his room. "Please, don't make me. You can take them. Get Storm, she's free. I can't..."

"It's been almost two months since you've left the mansion." Logan followed Scott into his room. "It's time."

"No."

"I ain't giving you a choice. Get dressed. Now. Wash your face. You've got fifteen minutes."

"I don't take orders..."

"This isn't X-Men business. Get dressed."

"I don't let my…" he faltered for the words. Mouth moved. No words came out.

"Uh.."

"Friends," he suddenly snapped, cutting off whatever grunts Logan was going to produce. No words for him, either; Scott had flitted dangerously close to uncertain territory. "I don't let my friends order me around."

Feeling reckless for reasons he didn't want to examine, Logan stepped into Scott's room. Stepped into Scott's personal space, faces inches apart. He slid his hands up Scott's arms before wrapping them around his biceps. "Maybe you should try it, sometime."

Pink flooded Scott's face, coloring his cheeks. He chewed on his lower lip, heat and desire and fear radiating off him in waves. When Logan moved closer, he could smell the spicy tang of arousal and sweat.

"I don't," Scott started, but the thought dried up, unfinished.

Logan nuzzled him under the ear, brushing his nose over a sensitive patch a skin.

Scott trembled.

"Ever thought about giving up control for awhile?" he asked softly. His lips moved over Scott's neck as he spoke.

The other man cleared his throat. His weight shifted so he was supporting himself less and allowing Logan to hold him more.

"I'm not ready."

Logan's grip tightened involuntarily. When Scott made a softly pained noise, he forced himself to relax. "Maybe not. But it won't kill you to try."

"Logan."

He stopped Scott's words with a kiss. Scott had already begun to relax, but at the touch of Logan's lips, all the tension flooded out of his body until he was completely pliant in Logan's arms. His hands came up on either side of Logan's face, fingers threading through his hair. Scott's mouth moved under Logan's, tongue colliding and retreating and twisting and turning around Logan's own.

But through all that, he stayed limp. Relaxed. Completely at Logan's mercy and control.

Logan tore his mouth away. His head spun. His lungs burned.

"We need to stop or I won't be able to." It came out as a growl.

Scott nodded, mouth open, panting. His fingers kneaded Logan's hair, pressed against his scalp. His body was tight against Logan's own.

"Right," he said. His voice shook.

Logan swallowed. He didn't feel quite in control. "You need to get ready."

He nodded. "Right." Unclenching his hands from Logan's hair, Scott pushed him away. "Get out so I can change."

"You don't have anything I haven't seen..."

Kiss-swollen lips twitched. "I said go." He pushed again, harder, moving Logan to the door.

Logan humored him, and allowed himself to be propelled out into the hallway. He smirked at Scott as he slammed the door. Like that was going to keep him from spying. Maybe he couldn't see inside, but he still had ears.

The kid didn't sound happy, despite the fact the impromptu make-out session had changed his mind. Inside the room, dresser drawers slammed. Feet stomped across the floor. The bathroom door rattled on it's hinges. Even the water had an angry sound.

A razor buzzed on. Logan smiled at that. The kid hadn't shaved in a few days, and while it was definitely a sensory experience to feel the bristles against his own, he missed the smooth skin. Besides. Scott was too pretty to hide behind whiskers. He needed to let it show.

"Stupid animal bastard," Logan heard through the door. It was whispered, but Scott had to know how good his hearing was by now. It was deliberate. A taunt. No, more than that. He was working himself into a royal snit and letting Logan know.

Frankly, Logan didn't care if the kid was angry or not. He could go out in his uniform and clear the theater with his laser blasts for all Logan cared. Just as long as he went out.

Two months since Jean's death, and Scott hadn't gone further outside than the garden. And even then, he had to be dragged out by one of the kids or Logan. He was eating, teaching, and sleeping. He'd stopped crying himself to sleep every night, although the tears hadn't stopped completely. He hadn't gotten drunk since that night Logan had found him, though, and that was something.

And, about half the nights, he slept in Logan's arms. Granted, it was usually on the couch in front of the television, but still. It was nice not having to sleep alone and knowing that he wasn't going to hurt someone on awakening.

Even the few times Logan had had nightmares, he'd never come close to harming a hair on Scott's head. He wasn't sure why it was different with Scott. He wasn't going to question that it was.

The door was yanked open. "Okay, I'm ready. Happy?"

Logan looked Scott over. His eyebrows furrowed. "Are you kidding?"

Hesitation flashed over Scott's face. He looked down at himself. "What?"

"You look... I'm no fashion expert, but even I know that you don't wear stripes and plaids together. You're making me dizzy just looking at you."

"Is it that bad?"

"Let's just say, I'm getting an idea why Jean never worried about taking you out in public. No one would be able to get past the clothes to see your face."

Scott's head snapped up. A myriad of expressions flashed over his face, ranging from engaged to pleased. He settled on an embarrassed flush, cheeks endearingly red, bottom lip caught by his teeth.

The door closed in Logan's face again. When it opened again, he was in jeans. Same striped shirt, but at least he no longer clashed.

"Better?" he asked. A hank of hair fell over his forehead.

"Much." Logan looped his finger through Scott's belt buckle and tugged. "Let's get the kids."

The kids were waiting in a hyperactive group by the door. Rogue and Jubilee were talking a mile a minute while they traded lipstick back and forth. Peter and Bobby were roughhousing, throwing punches and body slams. The fact that Bobby wasn't a smear on the floor told Logan they were just screwing around rather than really testing their strength. It always took him aback to remember that, even with training and powers and the seriousness of everything, they were still all just kids.

"Let's load up," Logan said, interrupting the noise. "When we get to the theater, stay in sight." He glared at Jubilee and Peter. "And no touching."

Scott put his hand on Logan's arm. "No below the, uh, shoulder touching. Within reason, I mean."

Some of the light went out of Marie's eyes. Logan felt bad, but Jubilee needed to be reminded. Not a day went by without him stumbling across her and Peter hidden in some corner of the mansion. It wasn't that he cared about propriety, but if he wasn't getting any, no one else should either.

After a brief struggle, Logan got possession of the driver's seat. Scott sat, pouting, next to him. The kids piled in the back and talked in that strange half-language of teenagers. By the time they'd made the fifteen minute drive to the theater, Logan had counted fifty-six "likes" forty-two "oh, um, ands," and fifteen "randoms."

Kids.

The theater was crowded. They got tickets to the action movie the kids had decided on (thank God; Logan didn't think he'd be able to make it through a romance, especially not with a grieving Scott next to him). Popcorn, soda, and candy cost an arm and a leg, but it was on the professors dime, so Logan just shelled out the money without a word. Once inside, the kids took off to find their seats, well within site of Logan and Scott, and they found theirs. Together, in a dark corner. Not quite alone, but good enough.

When the lights went down and the previews started, Logan covered Scott's hand with his own. "This okay?" he asked, voice low.

Scott started at the screen. His face, bisected by the ruby quartz glasses, looked impassive. Nothing new. It was something that'd always drive Logan crazy about him, not being able to figure out what he was thinking just by looking. He had to rely on scent and body language, and that just took more energy than necessary.

Still. He saw Scott swallow. Lips press together. "Yeah." He turned his hand over and laced their fingers together. "Yeah. It's fine." He looked at Logan. Smiled a very smile smile that almost wasn't. Then he turned back to watch the movie.

The warm glow of triumph spread through Logan. He didn't bother to stop the smile that stretched over his face as he leaned back against. The kid was going to be fine.


	4. Chapter 4

The next day, Scott didn't get out of bed.

They'd come home late, nearly midnight. After the movie, they'd gone out for ice cream. There'd been a tense moment, yeah, when some assholes had taken it into their head to make an issue out of Scott's glasses, but the kid had handled it gracefully and, backed up by some menacing glares from Logan, it hadn't escalated.

He'd been laughing. Talking. Stealing glances at Logan across from him at the table, foot pressed against Logan's own. Relaxed and happy and strangely--bizarrely, really--normal.

Normality was not something in Logan's life, and yet, sitting at a table with four hyper teenage mutants full of hormonal lust, stealing ice cream and whipped cream from Scott's sundae, everything felt normal. Like he had a life and lover and place in the world. That he wasn't perpetually on the outside anymore, denied a past, present, or future.

Okay, so maybe that had freaked him out a little bit. The idea of a future. Any future, but especially one with him. Scott.

But he'd kept that to himself. Hadn't said anything, continued to act normal.

They'd gotten home. Ushered the kids off to bed. Spent a good half an hour ridding themselves of their own excess hormones until, rumpled, lips swollen, Scott had pulled away, reluctantly.

"Have to go make sure they're all in their own rooms," he said. "Whoever takes them out has to make sure they're tucked in."

Logan grabbed Scott's hand. "Want me to come with you?"

His nose wrinkled, smile lopsided. "Naw, it's okay. I'll be fine."

"You coming back?" He held his breath, hoping. They'd yet to share a bed, not since that first night. When they did sleep together, it was on the couch, pressed together in the small space, Scott practically on top of him. It gave Logan a stiff back and a crick in his neck. Of course, the pain went away as soon as he stood, thanks to his mutation, but still. He'd like an entire bed to sprawl in one day.

"No. I'll head back to my room." Scott had stepped forward again and pressed a light kiss on Logan's mouth. "See you tomorrow."

Logan hadn't seen him since. He himself had skipped breakfast, wanting to get a workout in. Then he'd had to break up a fight that had broken out between a couple of kids. And stand there while Storm lectured them to death. And when he'd gotten free of that, he'd run into Rogue, who'd wanted to talk about the movie and Bobby and what a great time she'd have.

Consequently, it was nearly noon before he realized he hadn't seen Scott once that day.

"Elf!" he growled when he met Kurt on the stairs. "You seen Scott?"

The other man shook his head, tail immediately grasped in his hand. "No, Mr. Logan. I have not seen him since dinner yesterday."

"Quit calling me Mr. How many times I gotta tell you that?" he said, shoving past Kurt. If the blue man answered, Logan didn't hear; he was pounding up the stairs, anger and worry coursing through him, drowning out everything else.

Scott's floor was deserted, as usual. It was like the kid was trying to close himself away from everyone. If there was a space in the attic for him, Logan had no doubt Scott would happily--or, not happily, but whatever--squirrel himself there and never come out again. Just shut himself away from life.

"Scott?" He didn't knock. He just threw open the door and stepped inside, needing to make sure his Scott was okay.

Scott was in bed. On his back, pillow clutched to his chest. He was awake, but just lying there. Listless. His feet rolled in circles while humming tunelessly.

"Scott?" he said again, softer. This wasn't what he was expecting. Maybe tears or... or rage or something. But this was... nothing.

"Hey." Even Scott's voice was flat and dull.

Logan hesitated before crossing the room to the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Uh-huh."

"You don't look okay." He sat on the bed. "Why are you still in bed?"

"I can't get up."

"You can't. Get up." He looked over Scott carefully. "You hurt?" The kid didn't look injured, but what did Logan know? He wasn't a doctor. Maybe he'd tripped last night after going to bed, or had twisted his back or any number of things. Scott was strong, but since Jean's death, he'd seemed frail and lost. He'd lost weight, lost muscle, lost... self. So Logan didn't know.

Scott rolled onto his side. "No, I'm not hurt. Just tired. It's like my body's too heavy to move or something." He yawned. "I'm comfortable here."

Logan stretched out on the bed, facing Scott. Lightly, he traced Scott's face, the curve of his ear, down his jaw, up over his lips. Those Goddamn, beautiful, addictive lips. "This about last night? About going out and having a good time without her?"

"Naw. I mean, I've been having a good time with you for awhile now. You'd think that would be more of a betrayal or something, right? Moving on so quickly with someone she cared for. Trusted."

Think, Logan. Make it better. "Having a good time isn't the same as moving on. Before we were just... fooling around. Getting back to living. But last night... last night, we went on a date."

"So?"

"So. That's kind of serious."

"And sleeping together isn't?"

Logan snorted. "Half the school sleeps together the way we do, Scott. Go into any room, you find kids puppy-dog piled on top of each other, conked out. It's all comfort, right? No really moving on."

Scott swallowed. "I feel..." His lower lip trembled. "Last night, with you. It felt normal."

Logan didn't know what normal was. He couldn't remember if he ever had anything normal.

"I didn't think about Jean. Not once. We used to take kids to the movies all the time. Sit there, watching them watch the movie. Hold hands. Remember what it was like when we were. You know." He swallowed again. Lifted his glasses away from his tightly shut eyes to wipe the tears that had pooled on the ruby quartz. "I hate going to the movies. Can hardly tell what's going on. It's too washed out with my glasses. I go to be with the person I'm with, and last night, I was there with you. Completely. Happy, like I haven't been since..."

"Jean."

Scott nodded. He sighed and rolled onto his stomach, hiding his face. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For being like this. Acting like this."

"Don't apologize."

"Don't pity me."

Logan snorted. "You think this is pity?"

Scott turned his head and put his glasses back on. "Logan, this thing. Whatever it is. Between us, I mean. This thing should end before it begins, okay? You don't..."

He got off the bed. "We are not having this conversation."

"Logan..."

"No. No, end of discussion. Now get up."

Scott sighed heavily. "Just go away."

Growling, Logan bent over. He took Scott by the wrists and hauled him out of bed. Even with his considerable strength, it wasn't easy. Scott was deadweight, limp and unresisting, but heavy. Once Logan got the kid sitting, he bent over and draped him over his shoulder.

"Leave me alone!" Scott said, but his protest lacked real strength or conviction. He didn't even struggle as Logan carried him to the bathroom.

"Look, I get it. You're depressed. Best thing for that is not laying around thinking about it. Even I know that."

"What do you know?"

"Do you have any idea how depressing not knowing who you are and where you come from is?"

Silence. Then, "It's not the same."

"You wanna trade sob stories?" He dumped Scott in the bathroom. "'Cause I've built up enough in the last fifteen years to compete with whatever teenage heartbreak stories you've got."

Scott lifted his chin, mouth pressed together in defiance. Even through the ruby quartz, Logan could feel the heat of those laser eyes.

He gave back as good as he got, arms crossed over his chest, eyes narrowed.

"My parents died when I was five," Scott said suddenly. "Plane crash."

"Sad." He stepped forward, hooked his fingers under Scott's shirt and tugged upward. "My first real memory is being drawn into a fight by a bunch of punks. I was tired, hungry, barely dressed, and this group of guys jumped me. Defended myself just fine until the damn claws came out. Don't know who was more scared, the guy I'd just skewered or me."

Scott lifted his arms. His shirt slipped off. "I have brain damage. That's why I can't control my blasts."

"I don't know how old I am." He pulled Scott up. The claws came out. He swiped twice.

The kid was good. He barely flinched.

His pants puddled around his ankles. "I spent three years on the street. Two of those years, I never opened my eyes." He stepped out of his ruined pants.

"There was a woman, about ten years ago. Drifter." Logan went to the shower and turned it on. "I let her stick with me for awhile. Ended up killing her one night. Nightmare."

"Like Rogue."

"Like Rogue." He tested the water. "Get in."

"Close your eyes," Scott said. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his underwear.

Logan couldn't help that the movement drew his eyes to Scott's crotch. And the muscled, tapered legs. The taut abs. The sharp hipbones.

The fair skin turned pink, everything. Scott's stomach, his legs. When Logan raised his eyes, following the color, he saw that it stained Scott's defined chest, up his neck, painted his cheeks.

"Scott," Logan said, voice rough.

A pointed, pink tongue wet rosy lips.

Whatever control Logan had broke. The growl rose in him again as he moved forward. His hands took Scott around the waist, yanked.

"Logan, no." Scott's hand came to Logan's chest, holding him back. "No. Logan, no. No, please, no." His voice trembled, shook.

Damn.

It took everything in him to stop before he did something stupid. His hands tightened on Scott's hips, and the kid arched, drawing in a sharp breath.

"It's okay, kid," Logan rasped. He forced himself to unclench his hands and slide them up Scott's spine. "It's okay. I won't do anything. It's okay." He rubbed Scott's back and continued to sooth until the tremors faded and Scott was resting against him easy.

"Sorry," Logan thought he heard Scott say against his shoulder.

"You say something?"

Scott lifted his head. "Sorry." He kept his gaze on Logan's shoulder, not looking up. "I'm acting like an idiot."

"No more than usual." Logan kissed Scott's forehead. "My timing is bad. Although, I gotta say, I never thought briefs could be sexy."

That got a crooked smile out of him. "I suppose you wear boxers?"

"Why bother with anything?"

He flushed. "Well, uh, you need to get out so I can shower. I don't like to waste water."

"There's a surprise. Can't have a boy scout wasting water." He kissed Scott. "Go. I'll leave you alone."

And he did. Leave Scott alone. However, he did book it back to his own room for the world's fasted jerk-off. Taking himself in hand, Logan closed his eyes, picturing Scott's body, the defined muscles, the roses-and-cream color. The way his underwear left so little to the imagination. Which was good. Logan hated trying to imagine.

Lust abated somewhat, Logan cleaned himself up and went back to Scott's room. He was still in the shower.

Pretending that it was in no way domestic, Logan stripped Scott's bed and tossed the sheets in a pile on the floor. No way Scott was getting back in that bed, not today. Well. Maybe that night. But when he came back out, he was leaving the room no matter what.

Scott came out wrapped in a towel, water dripping down his chest. He frowned when he saw the bed. "Hey. I'm still tired."

"You didn't eat breakfast. It's past lunch now. You need to eat."

"Make the damn bed, Logan." Scott stalked to his closet. The clothes he pulled out were real clothes, not more pajamas.

"Do I look like your maid?"

"You stripped it."

"Stripping is something I can do," he said suggestively. "Any time, anywhere."

That got a smile out of Scott. "Good to know." He grabbed underwear from the dresser and disappeared into the bathroom.

Logan went into the hall. The linen closet was next to the room Wagner was staying in; he grabbed some sheets and took them back to Scott's room. He was greeted by the sound of a hair-dryer buzzing in the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding me," he muttered to himself. "Goddamn prissy boy. Won't let one hair out of place, walks around with perfect skin, pretty smile. Can't dress to save his life."

He threw the bottom sheet over the mattress and snapped it into place. Top sheet next, hospital corners ground into his memory from before his memory even began. Pillow cases on the fourteen million pillows Scott used to keep him company. Comforter--or, what Scott referred to as a duvet--on top. No wrinkles. Everything top shape, bounce-a-quarter-off-it perfect.

Slim arms wrapped around his waist. A cheek rested against his back. "Thank you," Scott whispered.

He wasn't talking about the bed.

Logan covered Scott's hand with his own. "I worry about you, Slim. Afraid I'm moving too fast. Afraid that I'm lettin' you waste away." He took a deep breath. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Whatever you're doing, Logan, keep doing it. Please." The arms tightened. "Don't give up on me."

He turned and kissed Scott. "We're still okay, right?"

His face lit up, relief relaxing Scott's face into a beautiful smile. "Yeah, Logan. We're great. Real great."


	5. Chapter 5

"Professor?" Scott said, softly, sticking his head into the Professor's office.

Xavier was sitting next to the window, gazing out. His eyes were far away, like he wasn't seeing what was in front of him. He could be anyplace, Scott knew. In any mind, any number of minds, monitoring, checking in, talking.

Or maybe he was just thinking. About Jean. About Magneto. About everything they'd lost when Stryker's army had stormed into the school, stripping their kids of just one more patch of innocence.

Scott didn't want to go back to teaching. Didn't want to face them, see that fear in their eyes. The loss of trust. They'd promised to keep the kids safe, to protect them.

They'd failed.

"Professor," he said again.

Xavier turned. Blinked his eyes back from oblivion and smiled. "Scott. Come in, please." He rolled away from the window and nodded at the couch. "How are you?"

"Okay." He shrugged. "I guess. I have a headache."

Concern darkened Xavier's face. "How long?"

"A few days. Maybe a week. It's been getting worse." He sat, rubbing his temple. "I tried ignoring it. And I went for a jog yesterday, just to see, but... it won't go away."

"I take it this is not a typical headache brought on by your glasses."

He shook his head. "Something's different."

"Lie down."

Scott stretched on the couch, folding his hands over his abdomen. This position was comfortable, familiar. Ever since he'd first come to the mansion, he'd been plagued by headaches. The ruby quartz was a godsend for controlling the blasts, but they could only absorb so much energy. His eyes were constantly barraged with minimal amounts of the energy, straining them. Not only that, but human eyes were designed to see in colors. His had adjusted to the continuous reds, pinks, and scarlets, but, sometimes, it just got to be too much. They burned and strained until the pain spread through his head, crippling him.

Telepathy was an incredible balm for headaches. First the professor, and later Jean, had helped Scott get control of the worst of them by entering his mind, finding the stresses, soothing frayed nerve endings around his eyes, his blood vessels, neck, shoulders, wherever. Calming him, making things better.

It worked better than any massage he'd ever gotten.

"Close your eyes," the professor said, even though, technically, Scott didn't need to.

Still, he did as he was told and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt the gently inquiring touch of Xavier's mind against his own. It was soft, a caresses. Searching for the source of the pain.

"Ah," he said after a moment's search. "I was afraid this might happen."

"What?" He opened his eyes.

Xavier looked somber. "As you know, you and Jean shared a telepathic link with one another. The mind is a very sensitive thing. When she died, she did her best to close the link. Unfortunately, she was unable to break it completely."

"Which means what?"

"There's a hole, so to speak, in your mind. You're bleeding out it. Hemorrhaging while your mind searches for hers."

"But I'm not telepathic."

"But after years of both her and I training it to receive and communicate as such, it has learned tricks. Ways to adapt to its needs."

"You're saying I need a telepathic link?" he asked, not sure if he liked that idea.

"No," the professor reassured him, shaking his head. "You're simply used to having Jean in your mind. Just as you are used to having her in your life. Now that she's gone, you're learning to cope without her, but you do need help. And you'll need help with this, as well."

Scott frowned and rubbed his forehead. "Am I going to be in pain for long? Or is this something you can, you know. Patch right up."

"No, I can't patch it right up. It will take awhile for it to heal. However, with any luck, you won't be in pain for long once we start repairing what was done." The professor hesitated, and cocked his head. "You might wish to think of this as any sort of healing. You will have your good days and bad for awhile, but, the whole time, you'll have support."

He sighed. "Like Logan," Scott said, knowing that the professor was trying to bring the subject up, yet dancing around it. Badly.

At least Xavier had the decency to look embarrassed. "If you'd rather not discuss it..."

"No, it's okay. My head doesn't hurt as much as it did." He squeezed his nose then dropped his hand to look at the professor. "What do you want to know?"

"How do you feel about the developments in your relationship with Logan?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. I honestly don't know what I feel. I mean, it's all just happening so..."

"Quickly?"

"No. Smoothly." Scott looked up at Xavier, meting his eyes, even though Xavier couldn't see his. "Everything with Jean, back in the beginning, was such a struggle. She was so much older than I was, more accomplished. I was barely in my senior year and she was entering medical school. I didn't know how to talk to her, and when I was finally old enough, when she finally started to see me... Maybe she was right."

"How do you mean?"

Okay, maybe he didn't want to talk about this. All he wanted was to go back to bed and hide under the covers until Logan came and pulled him out again. "She made it hard. Said that we weren't right together. Maybe it was because she knew. About me."

"What about you?"

His cheeks burned. "That I'm... gay."

"Are you gay?"

"I don't... I don't know. I'm attracted to Logan. I want to. You know." He blushed harder.

Xavier leaned forward. "Do your feelings towards Logan negate those you had for Jean? Does what happens now take away everything that came before?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked and eyes burned, and not with power. "I don't know anything." He fisted his hair and tugged. "I'm so confused."

"It's a confusing time. I understand that."

Scott felt the light touch of Xavier's mind once again.

"Is Logan asking you to do anything you're not ready to do?"

He laughed at the idea. There was no reason even to voice the answer; Xavier could see it in his mind. "He's being unbelievably patient," Scott said. "More so than maybe I deserve."

"And you feel like that, why? If Logan cares..."

"Logan deserves more than dealing with an emotionally fucked-up wreck in order to get sex," Scott spat out.

Xavier didn't answer right away. Instead, he put his hand on Scott's knee and said, "Do you have a problem with the fact you are attracted to a man?"

"I don't know."

"Is it that you're attracted to a man, or homosexuality in general?"

"I don't know."

"Does it bother you that Logan has been with men before?"

"I don't know."

Xavier sighed. "Would it bother you to know that I have homosexual inclinations myself?"

Scot's head snapped up. His heart skipped a few beats. "You?"

"Have you met Erik Lensher?" he asked, gentle smile on his face.

"Magneto?" Impossible. The man was the enemy. His ideas were... were radical. Dangerous. Yes, he knew that he and the professor were friends, but... but lovers? The professor?

Suddenly, his and Xavier's entire relationship shifted and changed. God. Scott had been a kid when he came here. Struggling to survive. He'd done things on the street and he'd... he'd trusted the professor. Trusted him to keep him save, to keep him away from the people like the men on the street. But he was like them.

What he?

"Scott," Xavier said. He squeezed Scott's knee again, and then released it, rolling away. "I'm sorry that you find this news upsetting. If I'd known it was such an issue..."

"It shouldn't be, huh?" Scott tried to laugh, but he felt ill. Dizzy. Like the world was spinning out of control, just like it had the moment he'd realized that Jean was gone. "I mean, God. I'm falling in love with another man, and freaking out because suddenly, all I can think is, on those nights when I couldn't sleep, when you sat with me, were you undressing me with your eyes?"

"Scott." Xavier's voice was sharp. Cutting. "Just because someone falls in love with a man does not mean they would take advantage of a traumatized child. Of any child. How dare you? You're like a son to me, I would never..."

"I know." He had to take his glasses off, wipe the tears that were flowing from his eyes. Again. "I know, I'm sorry. I just... I never... When I was a kid. On the streets. A few guys. More than a few, they gave me money. Food. Clothes. If I'd let them touch me. Touch them. And I was so hungry and frustrated and... blind and lost that I let them. Got into their cars and let them take off my pants and touch me. And they taught me how to touch them."

"Were you raped?" Xavier asked in that calm, collected voice of his.

Scott shook his head. "I never even sucked anyone off. They did me." His hands were shaking uncontrollably. "It didn't even... register. Like, it wasn't even pleasure or anything. I just... let them. And I thought that, if I could make Jean love me, then that would erase anything that happened before."

Xavier caught both Scott's hands in his own and squeezed. "Scott, listen to me. Listen." He waited until Scott looked at him, even though he was trembling. "You can not doubt what you shared with Jean. You loved her. I know that. Jean knew that. Logan knows that. Whatever happened before you met Jean, whatever happens after, does not change the fact that, while you were with her, you shared something beautiful and deeply special." He squeezed Scott's hands again. "What happened to you on the streets had nothing to do with sexuality. You were right in your beliefs. It was just money. It was survival. And don't think your feelings for Jean were merely prompted by a desire to erase what happened. Just... remember how you felt the first moment you met her, before you even saw her. And, again, after you got your glasses and did see her the first time."

He remembered. She'd been the most beautiful person Scott had ever seen. So full of life. Radiant and perfect and just... wonderful. It'd been so easy to fall in love with her. And so challenging to get her to reciprocate.

Which was why this thing with Logan was scaring him so much. It was so easy. Logan just... sought him out. Took care of him. Put up with his insecurities, and why?

/ Maybe he thinks your worth the wait / Xavier suggested in Scott's mind.

Scott sighed, a wave of sleepiness washing over him. "Maybe."

"Jean did." Xavier put his hand on the back of Scott's head and guided him back to lay on the couch. "When you first started to pursue her, you were too young. Too raw. Even if you never told her what happened to you on the streets, she knew there was pain there. Things you need to work through. She tried to give you time."

"You've been blessed, Scott. Blessed with a wonderful first love. You have the chance at happiness again. Don't let your insecurities get in your way."

"I don't know how to deal with this. Anything."

Xavier's hand covered Scott's forehead. "I'm always here to talk, Scott. But, for now, just relax. Close your eyes. I'll see if I can't start to repair some of the damage left in your head."

"Thanks, Professor. For everything."


	6. Chapter 6

"Logan, I need to get out of here."

Logan rolled out from under the car. Scott stood over him, legs on either side of Logan's hips, staring down at him. Even with the glasses masking his eyes, he was clearly desperate. His body was one taut line, fists clenched, jaw muscles twitching from tension.

"Yeah, sure." Logan put his wrench in the tool box and rose. "Where you want to go?"

"Anywhere. Just… away."

He reached into his pocket for his keys. At the same time, he reached for Scott. Took him by the arm and pulled him into a one-armed embrace. "Wanna talk?"

Scott buried his face in Logan's neck. His fingers clutched and held. "Not here."

"Okay." He lightly nipped Scott's ear and held Scott closer. The neck was a prime spot for scent, although, right now, Logan didn't exactly need to smell the kid to know he was anxious and upset. Still. It was good to smell the anxiety as opposed to depression, and definitely a relief to know he wasn't injured.

He sniffed again, right behind Scott's ear, then released him. "We'll take your bike." He expected an argument. Wanted one. Wanted Scott to fight to drive, to take control.

But he didn't. He climbed onto the bike behind Logan, helmet on, arms wrapped tight around his waist. All without a word.

Crap.

Times like these called for open spaces. Nature. Animals, not people.

The coast seemed best. Scott didn't make a sound the drive out, even when Logan took a couple of curves in the road a little recklessly. Not Logan's opinion, of course, but he was trying to think like Scott, needing to get a rise out of him.

It was a cold, foggy, overcast day. The beach was deserted. Scott didn't seem to notice the cold or the mist. He jumped off the bike the moment it stopped. Strode across the damp sand. His shoes sank and he was awkward and uneven as he moved. Strange to see the normally graceful field leader off balance.

Not that anything was normal lately.

Logan followed. Never much one for words, he figured that saying nothing would be best here. He didn't know what was wrong, 'sides maybe the usual. It could be another Jean thing. Another period of being overwhelmed. Or maybe it was something completely different. He didn't know and didn't feel like guessing. All he could do was follow Scott and hoped he was doing what the kid needed.

Patience was never a word used to describe him. He didn't even have the patience to hunt the right way. Always managed to barrel ahead and get what he wanted without having to wait too long for it. Never wanted to play by the rules of someone else's game. Hell, never even bothered to make up his own rules. Just... did it.

But this... Scott. He was different. Everything was different, from the moment Logan had sat at that bar in the middle of nowhere and seen Rogue. Seen her, nothing but a little girl in a place like that. Tried to ignore the way she looked, the way she smelled. The way she sparked something in her mind, something from Before. Something soft and small that clung to him with tiny arms that wouldn't let go.

And then Scott and Jean. The twin pillars of desire that taunted him, even after he'd gone. Wouldn't let him go...

Like a trapped animal. Trapped or tamed. He didn't much like the image of himself in a cage. Didn't feel much like he was in a cage, either. Just content to stay around a bit.

Maybe longer than a bit.

Scott bent over and picked up a rock. He tossed it in his hand a couple times. Then, he threw it out at the ocean, skimming across the top of the water until it disappeared, eaten by a wave.

"Did you know the professor's gay?" he asked. He was still looking at the ocean.

He thought a moment. Shrugged. "Never much thought about it. Is he?"

"Yeah. Or something. Said he and Magneto were together."

"Sleeping with the enemy."

"They used to be friends. They've known each other forever."

Logan shrugged. "Well. I guess that sorta explains things." They did have a sort of... undercurrent around each other. And Magneto when he talked about the professor. Wasn't as surprising as all that.

Scott picked up another rock. This one he didn't bother skimming. He threw. Far. With anger. "I told him about us."

"Did you?"

"Well. He sort of knew. But I confirmed it."

Logan stepped closer to Scott. "I'm fine with that. I don't need this to be a secret."

"You haven't told the kids, have you?" he asked anxiously, stepping closer to Logan.

"No, of course not. "

"You won't?"

"You see me talking with them most days?"

He rubbed his face. "I know, I just... Don't."

"Look, they don't need to know until you're ready to have them know." He cocked his head. "It bother you? The professor?"

Scott nodded. Smelled like guilt. "It bothers me. To think of him. Like that. I don't... My only experience, outside of you, are the men who... You know."

No.

"You saying what I think you're saying?" Logan asked, stepping forward. Growl in his throat, claws out without a thought. Hands gripping Scott's shoulders tight enough to bring a wince.

"Logan, please." Whisper. Pain.

He forced his hands to relax. Not bruise. Not hurt. Couldn't pull them away.

It was enough. Scott relaxed, stopped looking scared. Stop hurting.

"I needed money as a kid," he whispered, forcing the words out. "Needed food. Shelter. Men... liked that I looked so young. Took me in." He licked his lips. "I've never thought about being gay. Never thought about people I know being gay. Never much cared or anything. It didn't touch me. But now... it's hard to separate it, you know? What happened with those men, and what's happening now."

"I'd never..."

"I know."

"The professor..."

"I know." So upset. So angry.

Logan forced himself to sheathe his claws. It wasn't easy to do. His emotions were running so high, he was so much on the defensive, that, if anyone walked up on them now, he couldn't swear he wouldn't attack. Out of instinct. Out of the need to protect Scott from something that had happened so long ago.

"Are you afraid I would hurt you?"

"No. No, you're my teammate. I trust you. I do."

So, why the pain? The guilt? "Are you afraid you'll be like them?"

Scott shook his head. "No. I don't feel like that for... for kids. I'm not... I just... Am having problems. With all this." He stepped into Logan and fisted his shirt. "I want you. There's no doubt in my mind about that. I think about you. I imagine what you'd look like." His hand released Logan's shirt. Slowly, it moved down, then slipped underneath. Stroking skin.

He couldn't help the noise that escaped his throat.

A small smile bent the full lips. Scott's cheeks colored pink. He continued to stroke, higher. Fingers twisted and combed the hair that covered Logan's chest.

He growled. Tightened his hands. "Scott..."

Then Scott was on him. Arms tight in his hair, fisting. Mouth open. Hot. Demanding.

Misery radiating off him in waves. Not passion. Not desire. Not much. Some.

Logan didn't know what to do. He grasped Scott around the waist, holding him close. Opened his mouth and took Scott's questing tongue. Demanding tongue. Scott's teeth bit at his lips. His blunt nails scratched at Logan's neck. He was making soft, breathy sounds in his throat, but they sounded pained. His body wound tighter and tighter until Logan feared if he held too tightly, Scott would shatter.

Suddenly, Scott ripped his mouth away from Logan. "Fuck!" he screamed. He shoved Logan away. Stumbled back. "Damn it!"

"Scott..."

Scott wasn't listening. He rushed forward a few steps, grabbing up another rock. "I'm so fucking sick of all this!" He threw the rock in to the water. Snatched up another. Threw again.

Logan moved closer to Scott, not sure what to do. He'd been waiting for some kind of snap like this. Until now, he'd only been sad. Sad, depressed, down. Not angry. He should be angry.

He could deal with anger. Anger was like a second skin for Wolverine.

He stepped into Scott. "Hey, kid." He put his hand on Scott's shoulder.

As he expected, Scott whirled, on the offensive. His hand lashed out, throwing a punch at Logan's face.

Logan blocked. Launched into his own attack.

He'd never gotten a chance to spar with Cyclops before. They hadn't had time to train together before the Liberty Island disaster. And Scott hadn't been anywhere near the Danger Room since Jean's death. He'd seen the kid fight, of course, but that was mostly using his powers. Not hand to hand. Not like this.

Kid was good. Logan would give him that. He never held back on a punch, ever kick was aimed true, and his blocks were almost as painful as a blow. And he was fast. Slim and taut, he moved like a blur, dancing around Wolverine with a grace he could never emulate.

Not that he was doing too bad himself. He was a fighter, after all. Won every fight up in Canada in the cages. Some even fairly, too.

Never against another mutant, though. Strange. You'd think that there'd be at least one another making the rounds up north. Never came across one.

He liked this. Like fighting without the danger. Without the crowds or the killing or the tension of needing to save lives. Of fighting for energy's sake, to get it out, to purge.

To heal.

He didn't know how long they went at it. His heart pounded. Sweat stung his eyes. He didn't care. Logan just concentrated on keeping his claws in and his attacks fast. He tire the kid out, not hurt him.

And then, it became obvious that he was tired out. Logan swung, backhand.

Scott missed the block.

His fist connected, throwing Scott off his feet, into the water. His glasses flew off and disappeared underneath a wave.

"Crap. You okay, kid?" Logan bent down to help Scott up.

Scott yanked away. He fumbled and fell into the water, soaking himself. His eyes were squeezed tightly. "I'm fine." A wave hit him. He coughed. "Where are my glasses?" Still coughing, he pulled himself to all fours and crawled back to dry land.

Logan crashed into the water, fishing for the glasses. They were lying on the bottom, washing gently back and forth. "Here."

Scott had his legs pulled to his body, face pressed into his knees. He was shivering in the cold wind, his hair hanging in hanks.

"Scott." Logan knelt in front of the kid and lifted his head with one hand. With the other, he slid the glasses back in place.

Scott's chin was trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispered as it started to rain, pouring down on them.

"Don't worry about it." Logan wiped a raindrop from the tip of Scott's nose. "I should probably be the one apologizing. That's gonna bruise good."

"It's fine. I fucked up. I missed blocking. It's life."

"Didn't know Boy Scout's swore."

That brought the glimmer of a smile to Scott's face, quickly chased away.

"What?" Logan asked, following another drop as it rolled down Scott's pale face.

He sniffed, chin trembling harder. "I'm just so fucked up, you know? I can't even... I don't even know what I'm doing anymore."

Logan sighed. "I could... would it be easier on you if I just left? Let you get over Jean's death without me confusing the issue?"

"We need you, Logan."

"Fuck the team, Scott! I'm so sick of hearing that the team needs me. That the world needs me. I want to know..." No. He didn't. "If I'm going to screw you up, then I need to go."

Scott shifted onto his knees. "Please don't go," he whispered. His put his arms around Logan's neck and kissed him. "I need you," he breathed into Logan's mouth. "I need you so much. I need you, please. Don't leave me."

Logan was never helpless. Never. And yet, right now, he wasn't able to do what he knew was the right thing. He should stand up. Get on Scott's bike and drive away. Get out of New York, hell, get out of the States. Forget the X-Men, forget Scott and his mouth and his pretty face. And his body, the way it clung to his own. The way his hands clutched and pulled and knew where to go on Logan's body.

Never helpless. And yet, he allowed himself be pulled down. Let himself get lost in gentle touches, questing hands. Wet sand and wetter kisses. Skin that pimpled as he stroked up too skinny sides. Muscles that shifted and bunched. Legs that hooked around him, grinding against him. Hard, so hard. Need. Want. Fire all through him, consuming.

Scott shivered violently. Not from passion.

Logan pulled away. "We should get you out of the rain."

"I'm fine." Scott's face was flushed. His shirt was long gone, and his skin was a strange whey gray, dark red marks from Logan's mouth standing brightly against it. "I'm fine, Logan, please." He arched under Logan, mouth swollen and bruised.

He sneezed.

"Oh, yeah, you're great." He pushed himself off Scott, but Scott grabbed and held tight.

"You're warm."

"Babe..."

"I can't go back. Not yet." He held tightly, face buried in Logan's chest. "Please."

He sighed. "Fine." Logan kissed Scott again, sucking on his lower lip. God, the kid tasted sweet. "There's a motel about a mile from here. We'll go there."

"For how long?" Scott asked, sounding wistful.

"As long as you need." He bent over and bit Scott's ear.

Scott moaned and squirmed against Logan. His hot tongue rasped over Logan's neck.

"As long as we need," Logan amended. Then, as Scott squirmed against him again, he tore himself away, not wanting to embarrass either of them. "Come on," he said gruffly. "Let's go."


	7. Chapter 7

Logan hated hotels that rented rooms by the hour. Everything in them was sleazy, from the people manning the desks to the pictures on the walls. But they were cheap and, more importantly, plentiful.

"How long you need it?" the man behind the desk asked. His eyes slid past Logan to Scott, who was shivering and a terrifying blue-grey near the door. The man looked back at Logan and sneered.

"We'll take the whole night." If Scott still didn't want to go back to the mansion tomorrow, they'd find a better place to stay. One where people didn't automatically assume they'd be having sex, especially when one was near death.

Money and keys were exchanged, and they were back outside in the cold. Logan wrapped his hand around Scott's wrist and pulled, searching for their room. His sensitive hearing could pick out every activity in each room they passed. Drugs, sex, deals of every kind. No matter where you went, things stayed the same.

Room 215. Bingo.

"In," Logan said, propelling Scott through the door of their room.

Scott shivered. Wrapped his arms around his body. He stopped just inside and looked around. "Wow," he said. "I f-feel d-dirty." His eyelids drooped and he swayed.

He locked the door and hooked the chain. Glanced around and sniffed. The room wasn't horrible. Logan had stayed at worse. This one, at least, smelled like dust, Windex, and bathroom cleanser instead of blood and semen.

Still. "Do you want to go somewhere else?" he asked, knowing that there was nowhere they could go except the mansion. And Scott's lips were already blue.

"No. This is fine."

Logan crossed the room to him. "You need to get out of those clothes. You're freezing." He pulled Scott's jacket off and dropped to the floor.

"Can you t-turn the heat up?"

"Sure." He went to the heater. Fiddled with it until he heard it turn on. Cranked it up, then returned to Scott.

Scott's numbed fingers were fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. Without a word, Logan knocked them away and did it for him. Cleared his throat. "You know, this ain't how I imagined doing this."

Scott laughed breathlessly. "Nothing is. I don't even..." His voice caught.

"Shh." Logan slipped the shirt over Scott's thin shoulders and let it drop on the floor. Pants followed, and Logan wished he could see Scott's eyes because he couldn't stop looking at his face. And the ruby quartz sunglasses were fastened on Logan's and everything seemed very slow all the sudden. Very heavy. "Step out," he told Scott when the jeans were puddled around Scott's ankles.

Scott held on to Logan's arms. Stepped carefully out of his jeans. Moved so their bodies were pressed together.

"You're like an ice cube," Logan said gruffly. "Get into bed."

"Yeah." Scott pulled away, obviously reluctant. Climbed under the covers and pulled them to his chin.

Logan stripped quickly. "Fastest way to warm you up is skin to skin contact, ya know. This don't mean anything." He climbed into bed with Scott. Pulled him close.

Scott turned on his side and pressed his back into Logan's front. His arms rested on top of Logan's, legs tangled together. Every muscle, though, was drawn tight. Stiff. Pulling himself away. Keeping himself apart.

And Logan had to ask. "You ever do this before?"

Silence. Then, "Yes."

Logan had to concentrate hard to keep his claws in. Keep from skewering them both. "You want to talk about it?"

A longer silence. A sigh. "I never think about it. It's so long ago, you know? I was just a kid. It didn't matter. Didn't seem to matter. It was like another life."

"How'd you end up on the street?"

"My powers developed. My foster family freaked out. Left me at the hospital and they kept doing test after test after test. And the state couldn't find anyone to take me in. I went to a group home and the kids beat me up and... I left."

"Was it bad the whole time?"

"It was never good. I couldn't open my eyes. It always seemed to be cold. I was always hungry. But I managed. And then... then it was really cold. and I hadn't eaten. I was so hungry." He shivered violently.

Logan readjusted his grip. Pulled Scott closer and rested his chin on the top of Scott's head. "What happened?"

"I was out, begging. And this guy pressed some money into my hand. Asked if I was hungry. When I said yes, he said that he could give me food and a warm place for the night. I only had to do a few things."

"Did you know what he wanted?"

Scott nodded. "Well, sort of. I mean, I'd heard the whole naughty touch thing before. But I was so hungry."

"I ain't judging."

"I know." He licked his lips. "It wasn't too bad. I mean, I wouldn't want to do it again, but they never hurt me. They just wanted a little boy to play with. I don't even really remember it."

"But you're thinking about it. Because of me."

Scott sighed. "I'm thinking about a lot of things lately. Like, why didn't Jean ever ask me about it. I know she knew. We were in each other's minds a lot. Well. She was in mine. Before we started having sex, we'd lay there in bed together. And she'd explore my mind. I always waited for her to ask, and she never did. Just like she never asked about you."

Logan frowned. Tried to think of something to say that excused her, but it was hard. Seemed like this was the kind of thing people talked about. Least people who dealt with this kind of thing. And even if Jean was too uncomfortable to talk about it, seemed like she'd tell the professor and let him deal with it.

He stroked Scott's stomach. "I guess she didn't know what to say."

"I guess." He sighed. "I don't think the professor knew. I hid it, best I could. She got in when my defenses were lowered, but otherwise... I didn't want anyone to think less of me. Even though I was just doing what I had to do to survive, I didn't want..." He sighed again.

Logan nuzzled his neck, wanting to give some comfort, any comfort he could.

"Earlier," Scott said, practically whispering, "I accused the professor of wanting to molest me. When I was a kid. When he told me about him and Magneto, all I could think..."

"Is that what brought this on?"

Scott shook his head. "I don't know." He sniffed. "I feel like I don't know who I am anymore. And I'm... I'm angry. At Jean. At the professor. At everyone." He leaned his head back. "Except maybe you. You're seem to be the only one not fucking with me right now."

"Oh?" He didn't know what to say to that.

He nodded. "I've go a hole in my head. Jean left it when she died, and it hurts. It's bleeding. Hemorrhaging. And I'm in pain."

Shit. They needed to get back. Back to the professor.

He sat up. "Why didn't you say anything?"

Scott pulled Logan back down. Snuggled against him. "I'm okay right now. The professor worked on it earlier. And I didn't say anything to you because I thought they were just headaches. Stress. Depression. Whatever. But then it just hurt. I was having dreams where I start bleeding out my nose and eyes and don't stop. Just drown in blood and it hurts so much."

"You sure you're okay right now?" Logan moved his hand to Scott's temple and caressed it gently.

"Yeah. The pain is gone for now."

"For now. So the pain will come back?"

Scott nodded. "The professor said it'll take until it's healed." His chin trebled. "And I'm just.. so angry. It's not fair. I mean, haven't I been through enough? Why can't I just... Just move on? Mourn and go on? Why does everything have to be pain? Why can't something just be... be good for once?" he asked, his final words a sob.

Logan froze. His hand was splayed over Scott's bare stomach, just above the elastic band of his briefs.

So much pain. They'd both been dealing with it since Jean's death, but Scott...

He was warmer now. No longer shivering. When Logan rolled Scott onto his back, he saw Scott's lips were pink once more, and not the terrifying blue. When he covered Scott's mouth with his own, they were warm and moist. Pliant.

Logan didn't know what he was doing. What he should do. All he wanted was to stop the pain, if only for a moment. To give Scott something that could take him away from here and now and all the pain.

He moved down Scott's neck. Licking soft, creamy skin. Nipped along the length, drawing blood to the surface. Gently, though. No pain. It wasn't his nature, but this was... important.

" Logan." Scott's fingers threaded through Logan's hair. His body rose. Back arched. "Oh, God."

He wasn't saying stop. Didn't seem scared. Only aroused. But pained, and how could Logan have missed it? The tension, the pain, constant, always there every day. How had he let it go unnoticed? He was supposed to be taking care Scott, and he'd failed.

He wasn't going to fail anymore.

Carefully, feeling as if he were embarking on an extremely dangerous mission, Logan made his way down Scott's chest. Laved at the tightly pearled nipples, drawing tight gasps from Scott. Stroked over too-thin sides, down to damp underwear. Hooked his fingers under the waistband and drew them down.

Every sense was filled with Scott. The sound of the blood rushing through his veins. The taste of sweat and the tang of sea salt. The feel of soft skin. The sharp, heady smell of arousal and desire and salt and semen.

And more. Scott making soft noises. Little gasps, half-bitten off words. His limbs moving over the bed, uncertain what to do. One moment in Logan's hair, the next knotted in the sheets, before back caressing Logan's skin once more. Hips moving, head falling back. Straining to be buried deeper in the warmth and wetness surrounding him. Arching away only to rush back, almost crying at the loss of contact.

When he came, he did so silently. Mouth open, eyes squeezed tight so the warm glow behind the glasses was banked. His back came off the bed, arms flung wide. Body shook. Cheeks flushed. Muscles drawn tight until the very last and he collapsed on the bed, completely boneless.

Logan kissed and licked his way back up Scott's body. He was warm, now, radiating heat. Body flushed and dewy with sweat.

He didn't know what to say, so he just kissed Scott.

Scott kissed back, languidly. Almost lethargic. "Thank you," he whispered.

"It ain't fair," Logan said. He rubbed his thumb over Scott's jaw. "The pain. It ain't. She shouldn't have done it."

"She didn't know. And she tried to make it so it didn't hurt. But things just got fucked up." His mouth crimped. "Everything is so fucked up. And what's more, you should be the thing that's fucked up the most, but you're not. You're the only thing that's not hurting me right now. The only thing that makes me feel... feel real anymore." He smiled, even as a tear snuck its way out from underneath the glasses. "I know you don't think so, Logan, but I sort of think you might be a good guy."

Logan shook his head. "Naw. I ain't." He rested his chin on Scott's chest. "Maybe an okay guy."

Scott grinned. "Maybe. At the very least."


End file.
